


the moment to fight

by darkesky



Series: Sickness at Garreg Mach [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Medical Experimentation, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:46:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: The Black Eagles remained the most functional of the houses. As a result, his class took the opportunity to discuss what precautions should be done. Should they quarantine the sick students? Should they quarantine all of Garreg Mach? Should they head home before it got worse? Should they have mandatory temperature checks? Should they…?With Manuela gone, today became a form of independent study. Ferdinand kept pretending to read the textbook, ignoring the comments he so desperately wanted to speak on. Quarantine implied the sickness would only affect Garreg Mach; considering the rumor mill said the Knights of Seiros brought it back with them…? Other regions of Fodlan would be affected shortly.“Perhaps you wish to use those thoughts rather than keeping them bottled up.” Edelgard pulled a chair to the opposite side of the table before sliding Byleth’s chessboard in front of him.---Ferdinand can't catch a break, but he can catch a cold.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir & Hubert von Vestra
Series: Sickness at Garreg Mach [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599064
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	the moment to fight

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaand this is back! I actually had this entire chapter written up and didn't post it, so,,, i don't know what's up with that haha. Also Ferdinand sucks, just say contractions buddy

Ferdinand von Aegir did not  _ get  _ sick; he could count the number of times he needed to take a day off on one hand. From a young age, he learned to appreciate every day as it came. He knew he could, he  _ should,  _ take every opportunity possible to improve himself. After all, who else would he be able to beat Edelgard?

Earlier in the school year, Ferdinand made a point to invite Edelgard on his morning jogs. He did not pretend to understand her schedule; most of the time, he wondered if anyone but Hubert understood it. Nonetheless, she declined his morning jogs every single time. She never offered an explanation. She would offer him a critical look and turn around, shaking her head. Occasionally, Hubert laughed at the whole interaction, and Ferdinand fought the urge to shout at him. 

When Edelgard approached yesterday with a request to join him, he almost shouted.

And then he almost cried. 

Now, Ferdinand braced himself on his drawers, one hand roaming his throat. His heart beat furiously against his palm, and every time he inhaled, the deep breath shook and wheezed and tasted like blood. But… He made a promise. This was his chance to finally best Edelgard; then, he could return and lay down until the world stopped swaying. 

Someone rapped against the door, and he picked up his canteen, clipping it against his waist. Clearing his throat, he tried to answer. “I am almost ready! Give me but a few more seconds!”

His voice came out strangled and choked, but it was something at least. Besides, any other form of sickness had yet to hit him. He did not whimper like a baby, he did not hallucinate as he walked, he did not sniffle and sneeze. A sore throat could not justify a break in routine. Besides, being healthy would help him conquer this sickness.  _ Jogging  _ was a way to be healthy. Doing things like usual and not worrying anyone meant being healthy. 

He could just say he was losing his voice. 

Of course, this would be a blatant lie, and maybe, someone would eventually call him out on it. Ferdinand spoke so often, but he banished himself into silence. He discovered just how talkative he was these past few days. Someone would make some sort of claim, and he found himself trying to refute it. Even opening his mouth, though, brought a sharp sort of pain ripping through his throat, and every word proved to be a dagger pressing deeper and deeper. And a weight settled there, and no matter how he tried to massage it away, it just came back with a bitter passion.

As he tugged open the door, he paused. Hubert stood in the hallway, glowering at the streaks of sun through the window at the end of the hall. Ferdinand stared at him for a few seconds. Most of the time, he wondered how Hubert even managed to make it to class in the morning. He heard him sneaking back in at all sorts of odd hours; Ferdinand had always been easy to wake.

He blinked before shaking his head. “You are not—”

“Lady Edelgard? I noticed.” Hubert cleared his throat and unhooked a bottle from around his waist. Shoving it at his chest, Ferdinand hesitantly accepted it before lifting it to the light. Hubert snagged his wrist. “Don’t overthink this, and don’t look too hard into it. She requested I bring you this gift as a way of apologizing.”

“As an apology? I am not sure I understand.” Once again, he tried to bring it to the light.

Rolling his eyes, Hubert guided the bottle up to his lips instead. Then, he lifted an eyebrow. “It will ease your sore throat.”

“I do not have a sore throat.” He pushed it back towards Hubert.

Hubert scoffed. “I will  _ not  _ be reporting to Lady Edelgard that you refused to accept her rather generous gift. That’s hardly a sign of friendship, especially from the future prime minister. Especially from someone we expect to sit at the right hand of the emperor.”

“I…” Ferdinand wrinkled his nose, and he maintained eye contact. An itching crawled up his throat, and his eyes began to water, but he would not cough. Not today. When Hubert gave him a bemused look, he scowled. Then, he popped the cork out and downed it all in one go.

Ferdinand gagged as the heat rushed through his body. Staggering to the doorway, he barely managed to catch himself before he toppled. His vision blurred to black as his body convulsed. 

Hubert laughed. “Good. Now, do you still want to go for that jog?”

“Not with you,” Ferdinand managed to gasp out. His vision began to clear, and he hugged himself tightly. “I am… I will skip the jog today.”

“That’s what I assumed. Be sure to thank Lady Edelgard.” Once again, his laugh followed him down the hallway, and Ferdinand sunk to his knees. While the throbbing in his throat started to feel better, he never felt more  _ exhausted.  _ Next time, he should not accept anything from Hubert blindly.

At least he knew it could not be poison. If Edelgard wanted to poison him, she would have attempted much,  _ much  _ sooner.

-

Ferdinand managed to crawl and stumble into the Black Eagle classroom before class began. For the first time, he claimed a spot in the back of the classroom and let his posture ease up. He could not sit as bone rigid as usual. 

Within seconds, Manuela excused herself. Her responsibilities meant she needed to be in the infirmary. After all, the influx of students kept coming. He knew the Blue Lions lost Sylvain, and the Golden Deer had not seen Claude all week. Other students felt the beginning of symptoms come on; Annette and Ashe both sniffled, Ferdinand’s voice cracked, and Ignatz kept taking off his glasses due to the headache.

Still, out of the three houses, the Black Eagles remained the most functional of the houses. As a result, his class took the opportunity to discuss what precautions should be done. Should they quarantine the sick students? Should they quarantine all of Garreg Mach? Should they head home before it got worse? Should they have mandatory temperature checks? Should they…?

With Manuela gone, today became a form of independent study. Ferdinand kept pretending to read the textbook, ignoring the comments he so desperately wanted to speak on. Quarantine implied the sickness would only affect Garreg Mach; considering the rumor mill said the Knights of Seiros brought it back with them…? Other regions of Fodlan would be affected shortly.

Hubert’s potion eased the pain briefly, and this morning, he relished in the clear breathing. About two hours later, however, it wore off, and now he felt he fell straight back into the slump. 

“Perhaps you wish to  _ use  _ those thoughts rather than keeping them bottled up.” Edelgard pulled a chair to the opposite side of the table before sliding Byleth’s chessboard in front of him. It was odd Edelgard had it, but it was undeniable. In each of the corners, Byleth took score of the four students most prone to playing the game (Hubert, Edelgard, Claude, and Sylvain). “I imagine you aren’t in the mood for an actual duel, so we’ll have to settle on this. Would you humor me?”

The classroom fell silent as he met her eyes. She did not wait for an answer as she started to arrange the pieces. He watched blankly as she did, searching for the right words. Of all days she wanted to challenge him, she chose the one day he knew he would not be up to the task—perhaps because she  _ knew  _ today would be the easiest day to best him.

Plucking a black and white pawn from the board, she slipped her hands beneath the table. He heard the sounds of shuffling, and he did not need to be a genius to know what she played at. She presented her closed fists to him. “Well? What say you?” 

What say him indeed. As he searched her face, he knew she would not take a nod or a shake of his head as an answer. He inhaled shakily to try and compose himself. Maybe he imagined how bad it sounded. After all, the last time he spoke was to Hubert, and the other boy had not said anything on it. Then again, he insisted he took the potion…

“You want to play chess with me?” His voice came out as more of a mangled croak, just as he imagined it.

In the back of the room, Petra leant into Dorothea and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Ferdinand seems to choke on the frog!”

“That he did.” Dorothea hummed, her voice still painfully clear. He knew she visited Manuela’s chambers a little too often to be completely healthy, but he did not see her displaying any symptoms. Even as he pretended he did not have any signs of becoming sick, his voice remained damning. “He should get that treated before he—”

“Dies?” squeaked Bernadetta. She inhaled, and the words came out in a constant stream. “I don’t want to die, why is anyone dying,  _ who wants to hurt Bernie?” _

“Nobody. You’re amongst friends here,” Dorothea said softly. 

Edelgard ignored the peanut gallery and nodded. “Unless, of course, you’re not up to the challenge—”

“I am up to the challenge,” he responded, reaching out to tap her right fist. 

She grinned and flipped her hand over, revealing the white pawn cradled in her palm. He flipped the board around and placed the pawn back in its rightful space. He tried to remind himself his classmates were just bored. That was why they continued to gawk and stare at him. The fact they had no real instruction today meant this match would be the most exciting part of the class. 

As Ferdinand moved one of his knights out, Edelgard barely even glanced at the board to nudge a pawn forward. “I’m intrigued behind your silence, Ferdinand. Is it self-consciousness over the sound of your voice or is it pain? Should I alert Manuela the first Black Eagle has come down with the same sickness which befell the others?”

“No,” he replied curtly.

The two of them briefly lapsed into silence, Ferdinand desperately trying to gain the upperhand. His mind was not clouded; he was not that sick yet. Edelgard still moved in precise and smooth movements, a sly smile written across her face. 

Then, as Edelgard claimed one of his bishops, she hummed. “I see you have abandoned swordplay in training lately. I must admit I was surprised. Your father always elects to fight with his own blade. He considers a sword to be of a higher caliber than any other.”

“I am not my father.” His knight claimed her rook. “You challenged the subject.”

She swung out her bishop with ease, continuing her domination of the board. He knew he was not long for this game, but considering Manuela had not returned to teach the class, they would simply start over. “Of course not. Have you heard from him lately? My own father writes as frequently as he can offer, but I fear he might not get adequate time between his other duties.”

“Not recently.” As he went to make a move, he heard a sharp inhale from Dorothea. 

Petra beat him to the punch. “What’s wrong?”

“Just… Ferdie won’t have any pawns left if he moves there.” He caught her shrugging out of the corner of his eye, patting Petra’s knee. “It’s fine, darling.”

“But the pawn is having the least… Uh… Helping?” 

“A pawn can become a queen,” Dorothea said. 

Ferdinand attempted to say something. “But—”

“Checkmate.” Edelgard offered a sharp smile, easily speaking over him. Judging by the rapid deterioration of his voice, there will not be much to speak over soon enough. 

-

Just as Ferdinand predicted, his voice almost gave up entirely by the third chess match. He retreated at that point, allowing for someone else to play against Edelgard. She tried to convince Linhardt; Linhardt continued his nap after a long night in the infirmary. 

Right as he almost put his head down on the desk, Dorothea came over to sit atop the desk. She offered a bright smile before fishing out a bottle. He startled and glanced over at Hubert, who just winked. 

“Dorothea, where did you get this?” he managed to get out. When she offered it to him, he shook his head and leant back in the chair, trying to get as far back as possible. He glanced over at Edelgard, who had a tight smile but did not look to him. 

She smiled. “I’ve been helping Manuela here and there in the infirmary. Not as much as our dear Lin, but I know a little faith magic.”

“But…” No, he could not try that argument. Instead, he backpedaled to a different topic. “I do not pretend to understand the motivation behind getting this to me, but I really do believe Professor Manuela would only want me to get medicine from  _ her—” _

Dorothea held up a hand. She gave a searching look, eyes settling on his cheeks; he felt his face heat up a little more. A cruel smile curled on her face as she gestured with the bottle again, the liquid sloshing up the sides. “Well, Ferdie, she never said I couldn’t. And I just  _ assumed  _ I should do the right thing and try my best to help everyone out, you know? I might not be a healer, but I can read labels well.” 

“That still does not mean we should—”

The songstress placed it on his desk, giving up on him grabbing it, and batted her eyelashes innocently. “We don’t have enough resources for you to seek out official treatment… For the greater good. You’re all about that, aren’t you?”

“Did Edelgard give this to you as well?” he said after a second. Perhaps Dorothea does not care about Manuela’s approval; perhaps  _ Edelgard  _ does not care. However, he could not fathom why Edelgard would keep pressing this cure into him. They could hardly be considered acquaintances, much less friends.

She hummed. “Since when were you Edie’s lapdog? Since when did you care about what she did?”

“I—” 

“Look, if you read the label, this one will help to ease throat pain.” She pushed it straight into his hand now. “Would you like some?”

He hesitated before shaking his head. “If I required medicine, I would have gone to Manuela rather than your… Shop.”

Because if she pulled this out of her bag, he suspected she harbored a few more bottles. Perhaps she was running deliveries for Edelgard, but he still did not understand why Edelgard would create a black market. 

“I think it’s pretty clear you require medicine, but if you want to keep up with your stubbornness…” She shrugged and got to her feet, slipping the medicine back into her bag.

He took a deep breath and ignored the pain. “Dorothea, wait.”

“I knew you’d come around!” She whirled around on her heel and marched up to him, pulling the bottle out again.

Gently, Ferdinand pushed her hand away. “No, I don’t want the medicine. I… Why are you doing this?  _ Truly?” _

“Truly?” She shrugged. “Why can’t I just want to help ease the load of Manuela? Do I have to have an ulterior motive because I’m not a big-shot noble like you?”

“No, of course not! I…” He lost track of his words and sighed instead. No matter what words he chose, Dorothea would win in the end. She would walk away, convinced she proved he was nothing more than every other noble, and he would sit there and ponder the very same conclusion. “I am sorry for upsetting you, Dorothea.”

“That’s an easier apology than usual. Maybe you should get sick more often.” She winked at him.

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheezier sigh. “Perhaps. Would that please you?”

“It might.” Her eyes softened, and Dorothea offered the medicine to him again. When he raised an eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “You’re in the same house as me. Maybe that’s motivation enough. Or…”

“Who knew you were such a haggler?” 

Dorothea snorted. “Well, I’m no Ashe, but I certainly can smooth talk. You should see the things I can do with my tongue.”

He felt his cheeks flushing red before Dorothea even acknowledged the nature of her words. She let out a light laugh, more genuine than anything else spoken in that conversation. He took her medicine, desperate to keep her laughing. And if he chose not to take it, well, that would be his own decision in the end.

-

When he saw the chores list included grooming the horses, his heart leapt into his throat. Most of the time, he relished these days. He would gladly go to the stable in his free time no matter what. Yet, the idea of being gentle today might be beyond him. His throat hurt too much to speak, to calm down the horses, and he just wanted to crawl back into bed. When he woke up again, he would be healed… Hopefully.

As he arrived at the stables, he retreated into the same stall as his horse. Then, he bundled up the hay and slumped against the wall. It was not the way nobles acted. If anyone saw him, if his  _ father  _ saw him, he would never be able to find a proper explanation. 

His horse stared at him with her wide, kind eyes. He smiled at her as she started to move closer to him. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground until she laid curled up beside him. As he rubbed the top of her head, he laid farther into the hay and tried to find the best way to breathe.

“This isn’t a scene I expected to see.”

“Hubert—” He tried to say, but he flew into a coughing fit almost instantly. The ache built into his chest as he curled into himself, gasping for breath. Something wet landed on his lips, but he was relieved it was not blood quite yet. Still, the taste of blood sat in his mouth and refused to go away… And bile crept in the back of his throat. He might just cough until he throws up today.

His horse nuzzled into his side, and he deflated into her for a second. He appreciated her warmth, he appreciated her presence there. Ferdinand did not fool himself into thinking he had any close friends. The only one he  _ might  _ consider to be a close ally was Lorenz, and he was in a different house. The others in his house appeared to find him annoying most of the time.

The mage stared at him for a few seconds. “Did you not take the medicine Dorothea offered you? I knew if I tried again, you wouldn’t take it, but surely, you’re not actually  _ that  _ stubborn.”

Ferdinand just blinked and pulled the bottle out of where he buried it in the hay.

Hubert groaned. “Ferdinand, if you want to pretend you have a brain, you need to actually use it.”

With no voice, he could not begin to figure out the best way to communicate. This time around, he grabbed a fistful of hay and arranged it before him. This one would be easy enough to arrange. Pushing it around, he got the letter ‘Y’ spelled out and glanced back up at Hubert.

Pushing open the door, Hubert made his way to the bench across the stable. He had to put the basket full of grooming materials on the ground, and Ferdinand smiled as one of the brushes flew over the side. Hubert made no move to fix it. “Why? While the sickness may appear to be in its infancy, the knights have been sick as well. We have seen how it progresses, Ferdinand. And it’s worrisome. Lady Edelgard has been trying to find the best medicine to cure it, but the best it seems to do is fix the symptoms, not the illness.”

He cannot spell this out in the hay.

“Who made these?”

“Don’t speak. It’s painful just to hear. And I made it.” Hubert grinned. “Shocked? It’s not so different from constructing poisons.”

He nodded. 

Before the two of them lapsed into silence, Hubert started to speak again. “I didn’t think you needed to know any of this. I suggested just pouring the medicine into your drinks and seeing the results, but Lady Edelgard said it was always better to have a willing tester. So, I will leave you with this. We are trying to cure this illness, but we can only try on  _ sick  _ patients. And if it ends up being the right cure, we can replicate this and help everyone.”

And it was the  _ noble  _ thing to do.

Ferdinand knew Hubert would never say anything about it; Hubert did not care for nobility. Edelgard did not either, but he knew he would work to bring it back into their lives. As a noble, from birth, he trained to help the country. Sure, people could figure out what they wanted along the way, but they would not have the same preparation. 

This was the right thing to do.

Hubert got up to go, but Ferdinand tried to clear his throat. Pulling out the cork, he downed the liquid. This one did not burn; this one  _ froze.  _ He choked on it briefly as the cool feeling started to settle into his bones, into his core. 

“I knew you’d react like that.” Hubert stepped closer and then paused. “Ferdinand?”

The cold burrowed deeper into him, and the mist started to form across his thoughts. It felt like falling asleep. Yet, as he stared at Hubert, a sinking feeling started to settle in his stomach. Something felt  _ wrong…  _ But Ferdinand did not truly care. 

His fingers and toes started to go numb, and Hubert was shaking him. His head lolled slightly. “That was not the proper concoction then… Ferdinand, can you hear me?”

It was fast-acting; why was Hubert so surprised? He once took pride in having the fastest acting poisons. Even if he attempted to create something positive, he would resort to his old tricks.

The world shifted around him, and suddenly, he was no longer in the stables.

“Hubert? What happened…  _ Ferdinand?”  _ Edelgard appeared in his vision, and he tried to force a smile on his face. She pressed her hand against his forehead and hissed, shaking it out. “I think you spiked his fever.”

“I… Suppose it makes sense. I used a lot of ingredients similar to a sleeping drought… He’s out of it,” Hubert said.

Edelgard nodded after a few seconds. “Let’s bring him to the infirmary.”

-

“What are you doing?”

Hubert placed his quill back into the cup of ink before turning to face Edelgard. She stood in the doorway, hair free from any bindings. While she donned a long, red cloak, he could make out a glimmer of her nightclothes beneath. “My Lady Edelgard, it’s getting late. What ails you?”

“You are hardly one to lecture me about appropriate times to be sleeping.” Closing his door behind her, she crossed without making any noise. For a second, he was tempted to knock over the inkwell and destroy the remnants of the letter. Sensing his hesitation, she lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to hide something from me. What’s wrong, Hubert?”

“Nothing. Just a little… Side project.” He pushed away from his desk and got to his feet. Edelgard moved the letter carefully to read it. He can see the moment the realization dawned in her eyes.

A small smile played on her lips. “A letter for the prime minister about the status of his son… Did Ferdinand ask you to write this letter?”

“Of course not. I assumed you’d have to write the letter; I was just trying to help you ease your schedule.” He huffed.

Edelgard hummed, unconvinced. Then, she placed a finger on the corner. “I’m afraid, though, you won’t be able to get this out to the prime minister, Hubert. That’s actually why I came here tonight. There has been news about this… Sickness.”

“What news?” His mind jumped to the image of Ferdinand in the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, only the rise of his chest telling Hubert he truly slept and had not passed away.

She sighed. “Garreg Mach is under quarantine. Nothing is to get in or out, unless something changes. They say the soldiers who originally caught the sickness are starting to regress past a point of saving.”

Hubert stiffened. “How long have they been sick?”

“Hubert… I fear you’re growing too attached to this—”

“I fear everyone has grown attached to this. Do you not grieve at Dorothea’s sickbed before she has even taken to it?” he countered. When she looked stung, he hurried to apologize.

She waved a hand. “No, you’re right… This is about their third week of sickness. Luckily for us, the earliest sign of sickness in us as students came about a week ago with Claude. We have two weeks to get to the bottom of this.”

“And you want to save Claude?”

“I want to save the Black Eagles.” Her eyes shone. “If we happen to find the cure after Claude and the Blue Lions fall, but before Ferdinand passes, then it’s pure coincidence.”

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine writing about a quarantine as a fictional event and then it happening... Stay safe guys :)


End file.
